Hermione Granger sat, huddled in the darkest corner, at the top of the tallest tower, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face. Her long, bushy brown hair hung untidily over her tear-stained face, an untidy pile of discarded books by her feet. She rocked backwards and forwards, sobbing, oblivious to anything.
That's why she didn't hear him approach.
She was trying to control her crying, trying to hold back her bottled up emotions. Trying to prepare herself for the fake smiles she would be forced to wear, until she could next break down with only herself for company. No one knew that beneath the façade, she was crumbling. She pulled her sleeve down over the scratches on her wrists, and wiped away her tears impatiently with the back of her hand.
She didn't hear the footsteps behind her; she was so distracted.
She only realised she wasn't alone, when he spoke – his voice echoing around the large room.
"Granger? What the hell are you doing here?"
She jumped, gave a small scream of shock, and twisted around – looking for the identity of the person who had disturbed her.
"Who – who's there?" she whispered, wiping away the tears. The tower was pitch black; the only light was the weak moonlight trickling in from an open window. The only sign of someone being there was a dark shadow in the corner of the round room, moving slightly.
Hermione shivered: a cool breeze she hadn't been aware of before now made her hairs stand on end, and she hugged herself in an attempt to keep warm – and keep calm.
"Who's there?" she said, a little louder – more determined. She stood up, pulling her wand out of her cloak as she did so.
The shadow moved into a ray of moonlight, lighting up shimmering white blonde hair, and deathly pale skin. Malfoy. He moved closer, walking slowly towards her, face blank.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she said, viciously – stepping backwards. "Leave me alone!"
Draco Malfoy said nothing, just moved closer and closer – until she could see his shining silver eyes properly – they had flecks of gold in them – and she could also see that his face, like hers, was tear-stained. When he was close enough, he reached out, and grabbed her wrist, pulled the sleeve up – and stared without emotion at the scars. She didn't pull her wrist back, just stared into his silver-grey eyes, tears welling up in her dark brown ones.
"Why?"
It was one question, but with no simple answer. In reply, she shook her head, and pulled her wrist away from his pale, slender fingers.
"What do you know about it?" she whispered, trying not to let her emotions cloud her voice – trying to make her voice steady and controlled.
In reply, face unreadable, he tugged up his shirt sleeve – displaying his own numerous scars all the way down his arm, some more recent – others fading away.
The Gryffindor and the Slytherin looked at each other in silence, a mutual understanding passing from between the warm, dark brown eyes which were welling up with tears again, and the sombre, grey eyes which sparkled in the moonlight.
"Why?"
The question – asked once again, but this time by Hermione.
He stared at her for a moment, before replying – his usual lazy drawl replaced with a voice full of emotion – something Hermione Granger never thought she'd hear from the famously impersonal Draco Malfoy. His voice was quiet, and Hermione had to strain to hear it.
"Do – you ever feel, like – you're completely alone?
Hermione nodded. "Yes".
"Like – you're lost in this world, and you can't ask for help from anyone -"
"Yes". This was exactly like she felt.
He looked at her in surprise, before his expression twisted into a half hearted sneer.
"Yes? You don't know what it's like. You're the perfect, never-do-wrong Gryffindor aren't you? You have people. You have Potter, Weasel and all the other Gryffindors. You don't know what it's like".
He soon dropped the sneer when he saw the cold look she gave him.
"Yes, I do. I've never had anyone. The only friends I've ever had are Harry and Ron. And now – Harry, he's so distant, he never says anything to me anymore – and Ron -"
"- isn't he going out with that Lavender Brown girl?" Draco interrupted, running his hands through his silky hair.
Her resolve vanished and Hermione sobbed, trying to brush away the tears which were fast filling up.
"– Y-yes. Now, he never talks to me, sometimes I think that they just use me! I'm just the smart girl, the girl who helps them out of sticky situations, the girls who's there for them if they fall out, someone who they can laugh at without feeling guilty – the girl who they can drop anytime they want -"
And then she started crying real tears, bringing her hands up to hide her face in shame. Crying – in front of Malfoy. It'd be round the school in less than an hour, and she'd never live it down.
"Who do I have? I have no one. No one at all" she cried.
But Draco didn't laugh, he didn't jeer, he didn't even smirk. Instead, he held her wrists gently and pulled them away from her face.
"Don't you dare be ashamed - you shouldn't feel like this. You're more special than you know. There's no need to take it out on yourself; Potter and Weasley are bloody idiots, I've been saying it for years".
She smiled weakly beneath the tears.
"Don't do it to yourself" he said, looking down at her wrists.
"But – why do you?"
His face lost the little emotion he had gained, it went blank and his eyes became distant once again.
"It doesn't matter", he said coldly, removing his hands from her wrists. He turned his back on her, as if he was leaving, but she put a hand down on his shoulder firmly – forcing him to stop.
"Tell me. It'll help".
He looked as if he was going to argue, but her stern expression must have made him realise that he had little choice in the matter. That, and maybe also the fact that he needed for someone to talk to, someone to let out everything to.
"I've never had anyone, Granger. Try that".
"No one? What about your family? Friends?"
"Try having parents who don't give a damn about you, as long as you turn out to be a perfect Malfoy. An ex-Death Eater father, who is trying to make you follow in his footsteps. A cold mother, who has never loved you. As for friends – don't make me laugh. More like cronies, they're more interested in my surname and my wealth than me". To his annoyance, tears had started to fall, and his voice was breaking up with emotion.
Before he knew what was happening, before he could even brush his tears away, Hermione put her arms around him and hugged him. A brief thought went through his mind - She's a Mudblood – I shouldn't be doing this – but that thought was quickly dispelled, as he gratefully hugged her back – the first time he felt wanted, or loved in such a long time…
Draco's soft white blonde hair fell over her eyes, and she was surprised at how comfortable she was – pressed up so close against Draco Malfoy, her worst enemy. She felt safe, as if she had no need to be afraid anymore.
Draco could feel Hermione shaking slightly in his arms, dealing with the aftermath of her breakdown, so he held her more tightly, pulling her in towards him, making her feel more secure.
After a while, she pulled back a bit, and smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with a light which had been absent for too long. He returned the smile, pushing every prejudice he had been taught about muggle-borns out of his head for good - feeling more happy in this tiny moment then he could remember – and all because of her –
Everything he had suffered, every stress, every anxiety evaporated – he even forgot about the scars on his skin - even if it was only for a few minutes – and it was just so perfect, so right that he gently brought his lips to hers.
The small, bloodstained knife she had been clutching in her right hand fell to the floor with a clatter.
And there it remained.
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